


I’m Your Man

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: All That Jazz [9]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: 1930'S Nightclub AU, 1930's AU, Chanteuse!Marianne, Fluff, Mob Boss!Bog, Romance, Romantic Fluff, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8075599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: “If you want a lover, I’ll do anything you ask me to…”It is a truth universally acknowledged that Bog gives as good as he gets. This apparently includes stripteases.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a birthday gift for the incomparable artbymaureen on Tumblr, whose love of Mob Boss!Bog keeps me going. All the happiness (and smutty shenanigans) to you, my dear! You've been an incredible Fandom Aunt to the Strange Magic Fandom, and I feel so blessed to have the privilege of knowing you!
> 
> The song Bog sings here is the fabulous Leonard Cohen song “I’m Your Man”, as performed by the incredible Nick Cave (http://suzie-guru.tumblr.com/post/150146124688/syriaaaa-nick-cave-im-your-man-leonard-cohen). The way he *growls* out these lyrics is just too perfect for our snarly and smoky King… 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

_“If you want a lover_

_I’ll do anything you ask me to…”_

His smile was slow and sharp, the slide of a knife dragging a hair’s breadth over skin, and it only deepened to new sinfulness as his other suspender was tugged away, the tight pull of it slacking as it fell with one nonchalant roll of his broad shoulder. 

Marianne, clad in slip and stockings, was at a crossroads of concentration. On one hand, he  _deserved_  to have such a sinful smirk returned. On the other hand, the need to press her thighs together what with the ache between them was all she could manage at the moment. Good God, but he was given her an itch that would sure as hell need scratching, and  _soon—_

Bog, meanwhile, was not to be deterred. Smoothly rolling his hat from his head, he held it to his heart as narrow hips gave a swaggering sway that had Marianne biting down on her lip  _hard_. 

_“And if you want another kind of love_

_I’ll wear a mask for you…”_

He passed the broad brim over his face in a mockery of a mask, hiding half of his face and bisecting the almost boyish grin he gave her.

Marianne rolled her eyes fondly even as she snorted. “Like I would  _ever,_ Boss Man.” 

Bog’s grin merely smoothed into a smirk as he stepped closer to her, the movement almost a slide, his long legs covering the distance between them. Marianne would have stepped to him as well, but he had  _insisted_  she sit when the radio had started playing this song, when he had begun this silly song and dance apropos of nothing…

_This silly, smoldering, sinful smoky voiced song and dance…_

Bog’s voice was low and rough as he sang, the sound it wrapping around her like smoke-stained velvet as he held his hand to her. 

“ _If you want a partner_

_Take my hand…”_

Marianne readily pressed her palm to his and gave a shocked laugh when Bog used it to mime a blow at himself, stumbling back dramatically.

_“Or if you want to strike me down in anger…”_

Marianne giggled helplessly as Bog righted himself, raising his arms in defeat. The mock mercy of the gesture was utterly negated by the smile he was giving her, his eyes bright and blue and beautiful with wicked happiness.

_“Well…here I stand…_

_I’m your man…”_

Marianne ducked her head down as she ran a hand through her rumpled curls, watching him through the dark fan of her lowered lashes, a smitten smile curling at her lips. God, but that a man who put so much stake in being grim and dark and dangerous was shedding it all for her…

_God, but I love him._

Especially when it wasn’t just his grim front that was being shed. 

The radio continued the slow, swaggering tune as Bog almost lazily unknotted his tie, pulling it away from his neck in one smooth, slow swipe, the gesture almost reminiscent of wielding a whip. 

A hot pulse of pleasure spun down her spine, and Marianne pressed her legs together with new urgency.  _God, he’s **awful**. Awful and wonderful and_ —

Bog swayed slightly as his hands smoothed down his shirt, long fingers lazily unbuttoning it before it slid off his long, leanly muscled arms, falling to the floor in a soft crumple. Marianne wasn’t able to keep her sigh to herself at the sight of how his undershirt hugged his almost impossibly lean torso and broad chest like a second skin.  _Mine, all mine._

_“If you want a boxer_

_I will step into the ring for you—”_

Marianne playfully put up her fists and mimed a punch, which Bog just as playfully pretended to stagger back from, wincing with no small amount of exaggeration. Marianne laughed, and he leered at her with the next lyric, brows bunching down wickedly. 

_“And if you want a doctor_

_I’ll examine every **inch**  of you…”_

His fingers teasingly plucked and pulled at the hem of his undershirt, and Marianne gave the lowest, lewdest wolf whistle she could, well-schooled in the sound what with being on the receiving end of them after each performances, determined to bring about a blush on those sharp, stubbly cheeks. 

But Bog merely smirked at her, arching a brow as he continued on, eyeing her with a languid sort of lust as his fingernails scratched over the skin of his stomach. 

_“If you want a driver_

_Climb inside_

_Or if you want to take me for a ride_

_You know you can_

_I’m your man…”_

God, but his voice was almost  _obscene_ with how he laid into the none-too-innocent words. Much to her dismay, Marianne felt her own cheeks begin to warm. She quickly covered them with her hands, giving an almost bashful laugh. Goodness, but this was a change!  _She_  was usually the bold one. Bog  _never_  acted so… _this._

She had always adored the paradox of his personality, the unflinching and darkly dangerous Mob Boss contrasting with such sweet strangeness to the tender affection and endearing awkwardness that came out in her company. 

Not that Bog wasn’t plenty passionate. The new love bite on her hipbone was proof of that. But this was—

Well, something  _she_  would do.  _Had_  done. 

Oh Lord, was this some kind of –  _torturously sweet_  – revenge? 

Bog was still singing, working his whole body into the song, throwing his arm up to shield his eyes. 

_“Well, the moon’s too bright—”_

He grabbed his neck, his face contorting with his grimace.

_“The chain’s too tight—”_

He held his hands out to her, whether to entreat or to warn, Marianne couldn’t tell. 

_“The beast won’t go to sleep_

_I’ve been running through these promises to you_

_That I made but I could not keep…”_

Marianne, shaking with laughter, bit at her knuckle to keep her mad giggles back. She lost the fight when Bog fell to his knees, the impact of them hitting the floor reverberating up through her chair. 

_“Ah, but a man never got a woman back_

_Not by begging on his knees…”_

“Damn straight,” Marianne affirmed cheerfully, thinking back to Roland and one of his more hideously embarrassing attempt at wooing her.

But Bog’s face bore none of the complacent charm Roland had worn, no smug smile of certainty that made Marianne’s knuckles itch to take out his teeth with a well-aimed punch. Instead, his face was wickedness incarnate, his eyes fierce and fixing her with sinful intent from under the brim of his hat, and he began to crawl to her, practically  _prowling_  on his hands and knees. Marianne sucked in a shocked and delighted breath as he crossed the floor, ragged teeth bared in as he growled out his song. 

_“Well I’ll crawl to you, baby,_

_And I’ll fall at your feet…”_

He reached her chair and snatched at her ankle. Marianne gave a little kick to free it, helpless with laughter as Bog snarled at her like a wild thing, his grin threatening to break past his growl.  

_“And I’ll howl at your beauty_

_Like a dog in heat…”_

Pushing his face into the crook of her neck, he snapped playfully at the supple and sweet line of it. Marianne threw her head back in her laughter and glory be, she didn’t  _care_  if such a move made her neck even more vulnerable, she hadn’t laughed like this in the longest time, not since everything with Roland—

She squealed as Bog scooped her up off of the chair, swinging her over to his bed. Marianne fell onto the nest of sheets and blankets with a soft _flump_ and a fresh gale of laughter, her very sides aching and her eyes beginning to water. 

She trailed off into giggles, and Bog smirked before joining her on the mattress, his long legs folding as he straddled her, hooking those long fingers of his into claws. 

_“And I’ll claw at your heart…”_

He dragged them over her slip, his touch making the slippery fabric bunch and Marianne arch, needy for more. But instead his hands went to above her head, twining hard into the sheets there. 

_“And I’ll tear at your sheet_

_And say please…”_

Marianne snagged a suspender and struck quick as a snake, using it to pull him to her and capturing his mouth in a kiss that cut off the rest of his song. Bog groaned thickly into the kiss, and she swore she could taste the smoky melody on her tongue. Then again, Bog  _did_  enjoy his cigarettes.  

When she finally pulled back it was her turn to give a wicked grin up at Bog, savoring the heavy-lidded look of heaven her kiss could give him. Breathless as she was, her voice was sweet with sin, teasing in her triumph as she sang to him _. “You’re my man.”_

He lost the dazed look to favor her with another smirk, all too pleased. “Ah should bludy well  _hope_  so, Tough Girl.” 

Marianne giggled and pulled him to her once more, and Bog readily settled at her side, his long legs stretching over the bed comfortably. She batted at the brim of his hat, and he cocked it up, arching a brow at her, a smile still lingering at the line of his mouth. 

_Still so playful, still so ready to make her laugh…_

She bit her lip as she looked at him rather shyly. “Why…why’d you do that?” 

Bog’s smile become soft, tenderness instead of teasing in his eyes. “Ye needed it, after the day ye had.” 

Marianne’s breath caught, her heart clenching in a sweet throb. Just because she had been grousing about that earlier talk with Father—

She rolled herself onto him, her hands going to his wrists, Bog happily letting himself be pinned, his hat toppling back onto his pillow. Marianne’s smile was one of sly affection. “You’re in  _trouble_  now, Boss Man. If this is what you do after I complain about a bad day, you’re gonna find me becoming an absolute nag.” 

“It’s a cross Ah’m willin’ ta bear,” Bog replied with a long-suffering saintliness that was absolutely negated by his smirk. 

“Or maybe _I’m_  the one in trouble,” Marianne mused in a murmur, snagging his hat and placing it on her hand. She fixed him with a smolder from the beneath the brim, feeling her laughter tickle up along her ribs. “After all, why would The Dark Forest need a singer if its own boss can give such a song and dance…?”

Bog bared his teeth at her, his eyes slits of bright, beautiful blue. “ _Ah_ need ye, Tough Girl.” 

Marianne smiled at him, her hands slipping under the hem of his undershirt.  _“If you want a lover, I’ll do anything you ask me to…”_ she sang,her nails scratching at his skin so sweet. 

Bog growled and flipped her back over, and Marianne shook with laughter and shuddered with want as he pressed a kiss to her collarbone, his husky tones hot over her heart.  _“I’m your man…”_

**Author's Note:**

> Bog and Marianne are such delightful trash babies for each other in this AU =)


End file.
